


Worth the Wait

by mrsfrisby



Series: Till There Was You [1]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: After Zero Hour, Crewmates as family, Except Zeb, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Sabine Wren kicks butt, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, alternating povs, life debts, lots of fluff, no one trusts Kallus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-23 05:54:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10713552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsfrisby/pseuds/mrsfrisby
Summary: Beginning almost immediately after Zero Hour, Kallus and Zeb have to find a way to deal with their trust issues and their feelings for each other. Overprotective (and nosy) crew mates don't help matters much, but the fluff is strong with these two.





	1. Hope and Fear

Waiting was something he’d grown accustomed to doing. He was, after all, an Imperial intelligence agent. Or at least he had been. Now he was something rather more amorphous. He doubted, in fact, that he was anything much at all in that precise moment.

A surreptitious glance around the ship’s hold provided him all of the information he needed. Around him were evacuees, rebels of every imaginable stamp and background. Though he had shrugged off any treatment, a medic had come around already and tended to most of their injuries, which ranged from the severe to the bumped and bruised. They wore variations on what might have generously been described as uniforms, but their overall appearance was jumbled, disordered.

And their overall opinion of him bordered on violent hatred.

He would have expected no less, of course, if he’d been able to imagine a scenario in which he’d lived through Thrawn’s wrath. Never once in all of his calculations had there been a realistic path that pointed towards survival, though. He had tried not to think much about, to be honest. When he did, he looked at his death as inevitable, even as atonement. He would help the Rebels for as long he could. He would try to make right every wrong he had ever done to them. Not that any assistance he could render them would truly make up for those wrongs. But they were a forgiving lot. He’d learned that already. 

At least he’d thought that they were. Clearly not all Rebels were like the one he’d already come to know. Clearly the one being in the universe who had a right to hate him above all others, a Lasat of all beings, was the one who had chosen not give in to such hatred, even when he had the chance.

Yet as he scanned the faces of those around him, this one being was nowhere to be found. Kanan Jarus had arrived earlier with much ceremony to thank him, loudly and publicly, for his assistance as Fulcrum. But the Jedi was not a subtle man. It was obvious what he was doing. Jarus didn’t like him or trust him (nor did he have any reason to). Still, the Jedi wanted the others to know not to harm the Imperial spy in their midst. Jarus was declaring him an ally, of all things. 

As a result, his fellow evacuees left him entirely himself. But it didn’t mean they were pleased to him there.

So he’d seen Kanan Jarus already. He’d caught a passing glimpse of Ezra Bridger and Captain Syndulla as they walked past the door to the hold together. Even the Mandalorian, Sabine Wren, had poked her head in to check on him. Her gaze met his for a moment and she nodded at him, just once, as if acknowledging that he was there and that he was alive, and no more. She disappeared immediately afterward. It was more than he had expected of her.

The one person on this crew whose face he’d actually expected to see was the one who remained conspicuously absent. He watched for him, hoping and fearing in equal measures for his appearance.

Despite a lifetime of training in reading situations and assessing everything that was going on around him and everyone involved, he found himself at a loss. Perhaps he’d assumed too much about this person’s capacity to forgive. Or perhaps he’d read too much into their chance meeting on Bahryn, taking this person’s aid and protection to mean more than it truly did. All of the hours they had spent in each other’s company were unforgettable to him, but perhaps the feeling had not been mutual. Any one of a thousand things he’d thought about their encounter could have been incorrect, he realized.

Because here he was, thrust into the chaos of a Rebellion ship. And Garazeb Orrelios was nowhere to be found.

* * *

“You can’t avoid him forever,” Hera said in a low voice. “Kanan said he was looking for you.”

Zeb shook his head. “How’d Kanan know that?” he asked. “Sounds like he was in there for three minutes and did all of the talking.” He paused for a second. “Kanan can’t even see.”

Hera raised an eyebrow. “You really doubt his ability to read people after all this time?”

A grunted, “Hmpf,” was the only reply he gave her. 

She had a point after all. He knew she did. He also knew that of all the people on the Ghost (crew and evacuees alike), he’d likely be the only person on board who didn’t want to kill the man for one reason or another. And he had the most reason to want to kill him.

He didn’t like to dwell too much on why that might be. What did he really know about this guy anyway? Sure, he didn’t report him to the Empire. And they’d trusted each other, at least when their lives depended on it. There was the time he’d helped Sabine escape, too, declaring them even now. But Zeb knew the Imperial agent’d just said that so that Sabine would trust him enough to take the right escape route. The real message came in the form of Kallus turning against his own precious Empire when he became Fulcrum. He was one of them now.

At least Zeb thought he was. It was hard to be sure about anything right then.

“He’s one of us now,” Hera said. It was like she could read his mind sometimes, and Zeb already got enough of that from the two Jedi on the Ghost. And from Sabine, who called him the easiest person to read on any planet in any galaxy. Hell, even Chopper teased him about it.

“You’re the only person he knows, Zeb,” she tells him. “You have to go talk to him.”

Zeb shrugged off her words and left the bridge. He’d figure this out on his own, in his own good time. He was in no mood for Hera always being right. He needed some time alone so he could think.

Unfortunately, there was no place to be alone. There were evacuees everywhere he turned, and his own fellow crewmates met him with silent, questioning looks. When even Chopper poked him in the direction of the ship’s hold, he muttered an, “Okay, okay. I get the picture,” and finally bent his steps that way.

He was being crazy, he told himself. This was no big deal. Or, it was only a big deal in his own head. It wouldn’t have mattered to anyone else if he hadn’t made such a fuss about going. 

With a single deep breath, he stepped into the hold.

Several of his fellow rebels murmured greetings as he passed them, but he could only spare them quick words and glances. In the very back of the hold, a man dressed all in black was slumped against the wall, his usually blasted perfect hair in disarray. As he got closer, Zeb noticed the bruising on his face and even his wrists.

He cleared his throat but the other man didn’t move. Zeb worried for a second that he’d passed out and no one had bothered to call for help.

Then the man in black slowly lifted his head.

“Garazeb Orrelios,” he said, glancing up as he did.

“Hullo, Kallus.”


	2. What I Owe You

“You look like hell.” Other than a cursory greeting, those were the first words Garazeb Orrelios had said to him since they were stranded together on Bahryn.

Kallus tried to laugh then moved to hold his ribs. “It’s been a more eventful day than usual.”

He could feel Garazeb’s large, green eyes on him, taking in every detail. While Kallus obviously couldn’t get a good glimpse of himself, he could feel the dried blood and the bruises. He knew how hurt he was, and now Garazeb did as well.

As much as he had wished for this person’s presence before, he now wished him far away. Despite only having spent an absurdly few hours together in the past, Garazeb knew him too well for Kallus’s comfort. It was easier to be an anonymous former Imperial in the Ghost’s hold than to sit and squirm under the scrutiny of a person whose whole population he’d helped to destroy.

Yet here he was, doing just that. Garazeb got under his skin, for reasons obvious and not quite so easy to discern.

Then the Lasat slid down the wall next to him so they were sitting side by side and Garazeb was almost literally under his skin.

“Want to talk about it?” Garazeb asked.

“Not particularly.”

His companion grunted out a laugh. “I get that,” he said. “Everyone here’s always going on and on about their feelings.” He waved to take in the whole of the Ghost and rolled his eyes. “Gets exhausting.”

Kallus laughed outright this time, but the pain of it stopped him cold. His ribs hurt. Almost all of him hurt. Thrawn had seen to that.

“But really,” Garazeb said. “You okay?”

Every eye in the hold was on them, and every ear was listening. Kallus didn’t even have to glance around the space to know that. So he had to choose his words with precision. On the one hand, he didn’t want to complain about his ills of all things in front of these battle-worn rebels. On the other hand, he almost desperately did not want to say or do anything to push Garazeb away.

“I’m relieved,” he said at last. Perhaps it was just his imagination, but it seemed like his companion leaned in just a tiny bit closer.

“Glad to be alive, eh?” Garazeb asked.

“Glad to finally be rid of the Empire and living a lie,” Kallus said, each word chosen with care.

Then he coughed, wincing in pain as he did.

His…friend?...jumped to his feet with an agility that Kallus couldn’t even pretend to imitate, and held out a hand to him. “Come with me,” Garazeb told him. 

Kallus didn’t know where Garazeb wanted him to go or why, but he took the large, purple hand nonetheless. With little grace and much strength, he was physically lifted from the floor.

If Garazeb noticed that everyone was watching them, he gave absolutely no indication of it. Instead, he walked to the door with his loping gait and turned to wait for Kallus there. Together, they stepped into a hallway that led, he imagined, to their personal quarters. To say that he felt out of place and out of his depth was a wild understatement of fact. 

“You didn’t see the medic before?” Garazeb asked. 

Kallus merely shook his head in response. There was no use trying to explain his reasons for passing up care when others more deserving were in need of it.

“We’ll get you fixed up right when we get to the new base on Yavin 4,” Garazeb told him, filling in the silence.

Kallus just shook his head. “You shouldn’t reveal things like that to me,” he replied. “You shouldn’t trust me so easily. Or anyone really.”

But Garazeb just rolled his large green eyes. “Karabast, Kallus. If I can’t trust you after all that’s happened, who can I trust?”

Since he had nothing to say in response to that, Kallus just followed his companion in silence through the dark passageway until they reached a doorway that had to belong to Sabine Wren, painted over in every color of the rainbow as it was.

“I’m rubbish at doctoring,” Garazeb explained. “Even just to patch you up till we get you looked at for real. But Sabine’s still here for a bit and she’s not.”

The very thought of Sabine Wren tending to the wounds of an Imperial agent would have been laughable to Kallus if Garazeb wasn’t in such earnest about it. Or if even the idea of laughing didn’t cause him to almost double over in pain.

He took a deep, painful breath.

Mandalorian doctoring it was.

* * *

Sabine wasn’t at all surprised to see Zeb and Kallus at the door to her quarters, and Zeb was grateful for that. ‘Course, that was only because she’d pried the whole story about what happened on Bahryn from him right after she’d arrived back on the Ghost with two Imperial pilots in tow, and a story of her own about Agent Kallus.

Zeb hadn’t thought twice about telling her, or later Hera, the entire story. If there was one thing they both understood, it was complicated relationships.

So when she stepped aside to allow him to drag Kallus into her room, only Kallus seemed surprised. It wasn’t lost on Zeb that even as weak and battered as he was, Kallus still managed to look around the room in awe. To be fair, it was a hell of a room. Sabine was a hell of an artist. He guessed that the Empire didn’t allow personal quarters to ever get quite so…personal.

“Put him down there,” she directed, pointing to her own bed. “And let’s get down to business.”

Business, it turned out, meant Zeb helping Kallus out of the majority of his clothing so she could assess the damage. Zeb tried to be gentle. He really did. But the whole thing was so awkward, and he was so embarrassed, that he kept bumping the former Imperial left and right.

“Sorry,” he muttered, but Kallus just shook off the apology and turned his eyes toward the floor.

“Well, it looks like you’re going to need to be stitched up in a couple of places,” Sabine said as she examined Kallus’s bruised body. “Bacta strips should help with the ribs and the smaller wounds. But you’re going to have to take it easy for a while.”

Kallus silently nodded in agreement, still not looking up at either Sabine or Zeb. 

That is, until Sabine began to get a syringe ready to use on him.

“You don’t really think I’m going to allow you to stick that in me?” Kallus asked.

“It’s either that or deal with the pain on your own,” Zeb told him. “And why’d you want to do that?”

“The pain?” Kallus repeated, his face full of surprise. A thought so unpleasant that it made Zeb’s stomach turn popped into his head. Kallus might not know what a painkiller is. The Empire might never have given them out, even when they were most needed.

“It’s just medicine to make it all hurt less,” Zeb said, trying to control the rage he felt so that it didn’t come through in his voice. “It’ll help you relax and heal.”

Kallus shook his head in disbelief. “You truly expect me to believe that someone whom I know to hate me is going to administer pain medication to help me feel better?” he said bitterly. “Are you sure she’s not going to kill me?”

With that Zeb started to laugh. “She wouldn’t need a syringe full of poison to kill you, Kallus,” he said. “She could do that with her bare hands.”

“Or with explosives,” Sabine added, not at all helpfully. “I do enjoy a good explosion.” Kallus’s eyes darted to her in shock. “I could easily blast you into a million pieces if I wanted to.”

“See, so you don’t have to worry about the pain meds,” Zeb said, trying to turn this conversation back to something akin to comforting. “’Cause she doesn’t want to kill you. Right?” He looked to Sabine to goad her into answering. It worked.

She sighed and said, “Don’t worry. I’m not going to murder you, Kallus. Though I’ve wanted to in the past.” She tapped the syringe to make sure it was working. “Many times.”

Kallus raised a tired eyebrow and glanced toward Zeb.

“It’ll just be just a pinch and then you’ll feel better,” Zeb told him. When he saw that Kallus still looked unconvinced, he kept talking. “Kal, I didn’t let any harm come to you on Bahryn, and I’m not going to now.”

For some reason, that was all it took for Kallus to hold out his bare arm to Sabine and allow her to poke him with the needle. How could his word mean so much to someone who once tried to murder his entire people? This man treated the Lasat like they were dirt under this man’s feet once upon a time. It was taking Zeb a while to get used to the fact that he’d earned Kallus’s respect and trust. And that the feeling, despite everything, might be mutual.

“Just lean back,” Zeb told him after the shot had been administered. “The medicine might make you a little loopy.” The thought that Kallus might never’ve had pain meds before flashed through Zeb’s mind again. “If it doesn’t make you pass out altogether.”

Instead of reacting in fear, Kallus followed his advice and braced himself against Zeb’s shoulder. Zeb raised an arm to support the wounded man next to him and Kallus’s head fell sideways into his neck.

“You’re sure she isn’t trying to kill me?” Kallus asked. “Because I feel very strange right now.”

A small chuckle escaped from Zeb. “I’m sure,” he told him. “You’re safe here, mate.”

Zeb looked up to find Sabine watching them with narrowed eyes. “This is so weird,” she said under her breath.

Then she got to work, closing the wounds on Kallus’s right hip, shoulder, and knee.

“You do realize that you saved my life not that long ago,” Sabine told Kallus as she worked. “I can’t believe you thought I’d set on you in a murderous rage after that.”

Zeb struggled to hold Kallus still as the man shook his head almost violently from side to side. The painkillers must really be working.

“You don’t owe me anything,” Kallus replied. “You know why I helped you.”

Sabine’s eyes met Zeb’s. “Because you needed to settle your debt to Zeb,” she said. “Yeah, I know.”

But to Zeb’s surprise, Kallus waived that off, too. “Nothing could do that,” he said. “Nothing could ever make up for what I owe to Garazeb or erase what I’ve done to him. Not keeping you alive, not helping the two Jedi, not even becoming Fulcrum and spilling the Empire’s secrets to you. He saved my life. He showed me what my life should be.” 

Kallus swayed in Zeb’s arms, trying to maneuver so that he could look up. Their eyes locked. “Nothing could ever make amends,” he told Zeb. “But I will try, Garazeb Orrelios. I will keep trying, until I take my dying breath if need be, to repay all that I owe to you.”

With that, Kallus dropped further into Zeb’s arms and didn’t stir again, even when Sabine gave him a harder than necessary poke to try to rouse him.

“Well, that was quite something,” Sabine said, but Zeb was only half listening. 

He adjusted Kallus in his arms, marveling at how small this normally strong, even powerful man looked at that moment. He seemed fragile. He seemed more human than he ever had to Zeb before. Zeb leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Kallus’s, not stopping to remember that they weren’t alone. 

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing right now?” Sabine asked, interrupting his thoughts. 

Zeb thought about that for a second. “Not a clue,” he admitted. 

Sabine shook her head and worked in silence as she finished patching Kallus back up again. “He’s all yours,” she said. “If you want him.”

A small grunt was the only answer Zeb gave before he hefted Kallus and all of his belongings up and carried him out of Sabine’s quarters and to his own. 

Less gently than he’d meant to, Zeb deposited this puzzling man onto his bed.

“Oomph,” Kallus groaned. 

Zeb watched as he hugged his arms around himself. “So cold,” Kallus whispered.

For a moment, Zeb just stared at the man on his bunk, wondering what to do. Only when Kallus began to shiver did Zeb snap out of it. Did he know what he was doing? Probably not. But he was going to do it anyway. 

Zeb carefully lifted the blanket and laid it over Kallus before climbing into the bunk with him. Kallus stopped shivering after Zeb wrapped his arms around the battered and beaten man. 

“You good?” Zeb said in a low voice.

Kallus moved so that he could settle closer into Zeb’s warm arms and then gave a sleepy nod. 

“I’m good,” he said.


	3. Aftereffects

For a while, all Kallus could feel was an enveloping warmth of a kind he hadn’t known for years, if he’d ever known it at all. His sleep-addled mind searched for the right word to describe the feeling and finally settled on safe. Safe was something he didn’t ever feel, though, so it jarred him out of his slumber. 

His mouth opened to take in some oxygen but instead of air, he got a mouthful of fur.

_Fur._

Kallus tried to sit up, but something was holding him back. Shackles. The Rebels had him in some kind of shackles. Or was it Thrawn? There was nowhere he could go, no one he could trust. Struggling to break free of his bindings only made them tighten around him. He was trapped.

Then he heard it: a low, gravelly sound that resonated not only in his ears but through his back and into his chest. “S’all right, Kal,” the voice said in the darkness. “Thrawn can’t touch you anymore. You’re here. You’re safe.”

Whatever was binding him in place loosened its hold and large, rough fingers ran through his hair. 

He was on the Ghost, he remembered suddenly. Not only on the ship itself, but apparently sharing a tiny bunk with Garazeb Orrelios. Kallus sat up like a shot. He had no shirt on, was wearing nothing, in fact, but some undergarments on his lower half. His mind struggled to remember how he got in this position.

Sabine Wren. Doctoring. The shot of pain medication.

“You okay?” Garazeb asked him.

Kallus blinked his eyes in the soft darkness. “Are you quite sure that Sabine didn’t poison me?” he asked.

A small laugh escaped from Garazeb. “Positive,” he replied. “Likely you’ve never had any before so you had a strong reaction to it. The stuff barely works on me anymore when I get bashed up.”

Turning to gaze at Garazeb, Kallus had to admit that it likely took a sizeable dose of medication of any kind to work on someone of his stature. Not that Kallus had a tremendous amount of experience of medication. Garazeb was right about that. The Empire was not given to pampering those in its ranks.

“You hungry?” Garazeb asked. “I could grab you some rations.”

Was he hungry? It was difficult to even tell anymore. So much of him ached that it took precedence over every other bodily impulse. 

“Maybe you need to keep resting,” his bunkmate told him. “You look muddled.”

Kallus turned to look at him. “Why are we sharing a bunk? Is there nowhere else to sleep on this ship?” The question came out a bit more abruptly than Kallus had planned and he could feel his companion tense up beside him.

“Oh, uh, sorry about that,” Garazeb said, instantly moving as far away as the bunk would allow. But that wasn’t what Kallus had wanted necessarily. The empty space between them felt cold. “You were out like a light and shivering fit to kill, so I just thought…that is….”

Something had to be done here. Kallus had to stop this conversation from turning horribly wrong right now.

“I’m not complaining, Garazeb,” he said. “I’m just confused.”

The door to Garazeb’s quarters shot open and Ezra Bridger stepped inside, flicking the light on as he did. 

“Oh, sorry,” Bridger said, but the scowl on his face belied the apology. “I figured it would be safe to come in at this point, but I was obviously wrong. Sorry for interrupting…whatever this is.”

With another scowl, the young Jedi spun on his heels and the door slid shut behind him.

“I…does he…?” But Kallus found himself at a loss for words. “Will he tell anyone? Will you get censured?”

Garazeb stared at him, looking genuinely confused. “Censured? For what?”

“For…for sharing a bunk,” Kallus stammered out. “For fraternization.”

The Lasat laughed out loud. “It’s not like the whole ship doesn’t know you bunked here last night,” he said. “Word travels fast in this group.”

“And no one finds that strange?” Kallus persisted. “Captain Syndulla won’t be angry with you?”

“For sharing my bunk with you?” Garazeb laughed. “Not when she and Kanan are shacking up on the regular!”

That piece of information took a moment for Kallus to process. “Captain Syndulla and Kanan Jarus are…together?” he said, his thoughts forming into comprehension as the words came out of his mouth.

“’Course they are!” Garazeb told him. “Have been for ages. They tried to be quiet about it at first, but everyone’s known all along.”

Kallus turned to his companion. “Garazeb Orrelios, you have to stop sharing information like this with me,” he said.

“Why?” Garazeb replied. “You gonna go hassle the two of them? Kanan’ll outright ignore you, but I wouldn’t go pestering Hera. The woman’s got enough on her plate as it is.”

Clearly, Kallus was not expressing himself properly. Perhaps the pain medication was still clogging his brain?

“No, you have to stop telling me information that should be classified,” Kallus persisted. “If Thrawn were ever to find out about Captain Syndulla and Jarus, he’d find a way to use it against them.”

Garazeb’s ears ticked backward. “You planning on telling Thrawn about them?”

“Of course not!” Kallus spat out. “But what if I get captured? Tortured even? Thrawn would take great pleasure in that, I assure you. The less I know, the better.”

He was shaking, but he couldn’t begin to fathom why. This place, these people. Didn’t they realize that they were too casual with their friendship and their trust? Didn’t Garazeb?

“Well, if that’s all you’re worried about, we’re good,” Garazeb replied, proving once and for all that he had no sense of preservation. “I told you before, I trust you.”

“Garazeb…” Kallus began, but the Lasat moved in closer, cutting off his thoughts. 

“And that’s another thing,” his bunkmate said. “No more of this Garazeb Orrelios stuff, okay? If we’re going to be friends you have to act like one. Everyone here calls me Zeb.”

Kallus tried to roll the word off his tongue, but somehow failed. “I’m not sure I can call you that,” he said.

“And why’s that, exactly?”

It was a good question, but one that did not have an easy answer, tied up as it was with the destruction of Lasan and the horrible role Kallus had played in it. He owed Garazeb too much to treat him with anything other than the utmost of respect.

He owed him too much.

A remembrance of the night before hit him with sudden clarity.

“Did I…give something of a speech last night?” Kallus asked cautiously.

Garazeb answered frankly. “Well, yeah, you did.”

A deep breath filled Kallus’s lungs. “And was it about the debt I owe you?”

His friend nodded. “It was a doozy,” Garazeb admitted. “But I think you finally convinced Sabine that you’re really on our side, if that makes you feel any better.”

Kallus burst out laughing and then leaned forward to hug his aching ribs. “Who would have thought any amount of speechifying could accomplish such a goal?”

Garazeb got out of the bunk, leaving Kallus alone. “I’m gonna go get you some rations and something to drink,” he said. “You just stay here and rest.”

“I can’t call you Zeb,” Kallus said as his friend reached for the switch to open the door. “I…I think you know why.”

With a nod, Garazeb said, “Guess I can see that. Just hope you’ll get past it at some point.”

Then he smiled at Kallus, lighting something warm in the former Imperial agent’s chest. “Your, um, hair looks good all mussed up like that,” Garazeb said. “More relaxed. Less villainous.”

The door whooshed closed behind Garazeb, leaving Kallus alone to run his fingers through his hair. It was loose and falling to the sides, not at all the way he normally wore it.

“Less villainous,” Kallus repeated as he lay back on Garazeb Orrelios’s bunk. Then he laughed until he needed another pain shot so badly that he almost crawled to Sabine Wren’s quarters to get one.

“I suppose I can live with less villainous.”

* * *

Ezra wouldn’t shut up about it. Zeb tried his best to ignore him, but every time they were in the same room together, Ezra would lay into him again. 

It was enough to make a Lasat want to take a bo-rifle to the kid.

“You slept with an Imperial agent,” Ezra said. “I can’t even believe it.”

“I didn’t sleep with him like that,” Zeb replied. “We just shared a bunk.”

“I don’t know,” Ezra pushed. “There was an empty bunk in the room that no one thought to use. And he didn’t seem to be wearing any clothes. You looked pretty cozy to me.”

Sabine joined them in the common area. “You didn’t even hear Kallus’s declarations about how dedicated he is to Zeb last night,” she added. “It was actually kind of sweet in a sick and twisted way.”

“Karabast! This stops now!” Zeb told them. “We only shared a bunk because he was in shock and he was shivering.”

“And so you shared your warmth as well as your bunk with him,” Sabine said as she walked back toward the door with a ration bar in hand. “Like I said last night, I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I never know what I’m doing,” Zeb called after her.

Ezra just shook his head at him. “You really don’t this time, though,” he said. “Why would you want him anywhere near you?”

Zeb had already asked himself that same question more times than he could count. “I…it’s just that…” Zeb couldn’t seem to get the words out. “S’none of your business, is it?”

“If my friend’s getting himself into a dangerous situation, it’s definitely my business,” Ezra countered. 

“Ezra, I’m telling you right now,” Zeb began, but he never got to finish the threat he had on the tip of his tongue.

Hera stepped into the common area. “Zeb, can I have a word with you and Kallus?” she said. 

Ezra immediately got up like he was coming, too, but Hera put her hand up. “I didn’t say that I needed a word with you, Ezra,” she told him. “You have other tasks to keep you busy right now.”

It was impossible for Zeb not to gloat a little bit. Besides, this whole situation had gotten out of control. Go talk to him, they all said. You’re the only one he knows, they told him. Then when he went and did that very thing, he got nothing but grief for it.

Not that any of it mattered if Hera needed him for something. “I’ll grab Kallus,” he told her. “We’ll be right there.”

It didn’t take long to find the former Imperial officer. He’d been taking on any and all odd jobs he could find all day long. Zeb liked to think it was because the guy wasn’t that tired, but a worry tugged at his mind that something bigger was going on with him.

“Hera needs us,” he said, sticking his head into the supply room, a nervous smile on his face. Zeb’d been trying to keep busy all morning to avoid this very scene. Somehow facing Kallus after spending the whole night with the man in his arms was more than a little awkward. 

Even though nothing happened between them. Nothing at all.

Kallus stood up far too quickly for someone who just had head trauma and faltered backward against the wall again. “We are being censured then?” he said.

The nervous smile disappeared immediately from Zeb’s face. “What? No,” he said. “She just wants to talk to us. She even shut Ezra down when he was hassling me about….”

The look on Kallus’s face was hard to read. Not that Zeb was any kind of expert in reading other people’s emotions. He wasn’t. But he was trying a lot harder than he normally did right then and still came up empty.

And he had no idea what to say. So instead of talking, he reached his hand out to pull Kallus back to standing again. Kallus put his hand in Zeb’s and grasped on tightly as Zeb got him roughly to his feet.

“How’re you feeling?” Zeb asked.

“About the same,” Kallus replied. “Fine.”

Zeb nodded. Kallus nodded. Neither of them seemed to realize that they were still holding on to each other’s hands for a second there. When Zeb did, though, he went on and dug himself even deeper into a hole by squeezing his friend’s hand tightly.

Kallus winced in pain. 

“Karabast,” Zeb said in an undertone. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“No, it’s all right,” Kallus told him. “It’s just sore that’s all.”

Zeb loosened his grip, but just enough to hold Kallus’s hand gingerly in his own. He ran his finger over the bruises on Kallus’s palm and up to the wrists that still bore the marks of the shackles Thrawn had put him in.

All the while, he could feel Kallus’s eyes on him, watching his every move. 

“Garazeb Orrelios,” his friend said, his voice hoarse and low. “I really am fine.”

Zeb didn’t know if he was doing the right thing or if Kallus was trying to tell him to back off, but he did just in case. Taking a step backward, he dropped his friend’s hand. The last thing he wanted was to make Kallus uncomfortable in what he hoped was going to be his new home. Besides, what the hell was he doing touching the guy?

“We should, um, probably head to see Hera,” Zeb muttered. 

If there was an easy way to figure things out between the two of them, one thing was certain: Zeb didn't have the slightest idea what it was.


	4. One of Us Now

Kallus had spent much of the day being threatened by Garazeb’s extraordinarily protective crewmates. It began when Kanan Jarus brought him some clothing to wear in the morning.

“I figured roaming around the Ghost in your Imperial uniform wouldn’t make you any friends,” Jarus had told him. Kallus had murmured his thanks and fingered the garments the Jedi had delivered to him. They were coarsely made and in the same drab colors that much of the Rebellion seemed to favor. They also looked to be several sizes too small for him.

It took Kallus a moment to realize that Jarus was still standing in the doorway to Garazeb’s quarters.

“I’m not a man given to unnecessary violence,” Jarus said, his voice low and calm. “Despite what’s happened between us in the past, you’ve worked hard to prove that you’ve turned away from the Empire and you’ve gained Zeb’s trust, which is no small thing even for a man who doesn’t have your history with Lasan.”

Jarus paused, but it was impossible to know how to respond to such a statement or even to know what to make of it.

“But if you do anything to abuse his trust, I promise you that you will regret it.”

At least by then Kallus knew what the Jedi was getting at. “I would never abuse his trust,” he assured Jarus. “Or yours.”  
With a nod, Jarus exited the room, the door swishing closed behind him even though he hadn’t pressed the switch, leaving Kallus to ponder his words. Painstakingly, Kallus put on the clothing Jarus had given him. The shirt was too tight and pinched his shoulder wound and the trousers an inch or two short, but Kallus knew not to complain about this or anything else at the moment. 

He also knew he had to get out of this room and show his face among the Ghost’s crew and the other Rebels if he was ever going to earn even a shred of their respect. It was not difficult to persevere despite his many small injuries. He’d had to do the same under worse conditions with the Empire before, after all.

But being out in the main areas of the Ghost opened him up to still more threats. 

Ezra Bridger had been muttering darkly under his breath about what he’d do to each of Kallus’s limbs if he hurt Zeb every time they crossed paths. But Kallus would have expected nothing less. It was clear that much would need to be done to earn the young Jedi’s trust. 

Chopper had prodded him violently, beeping loudly about how he’d once cut the air supply of whole regiment of stormtroopers, so to be careful with Zeb or else Kallus would meet a similar fate. 

After listening to the droid detail the murder of so many troopers with such glee, Kallus made a mental note to avoid the homicidal astromech in future as much as humanly possible. 

Shortly afterward, Sabine Wren had cornered him as he went searching for a refresher and pushed him less-than-gently against the wall despite the injuries she was well aware he’d sustained. 

“I have to leave soon, so let’s get this out of the way,” she said. “I get that Zeb trusts you. And I want to trust you, too. But if you ever do anything to hurt a single tuft of his fur, I will end you, Kallus. And I’ll do it as creatively and painfully as possible.”

“Understood,” he’d told her. “But I have no intention of hurting him, physically or otherwise.”

She nodded and backed off, giving him a little space. “Yeah, I heard your little speech last night,” she said as she walked away. “Heartwarming. Really.”

So when Garazeb led him to Captain Syndulla’s for a conference, he assumed a similar threat was about to be issued. The only puzzling thing about it was that she’d summoned Garazeb along with him.

But threats were not on Captain Syndulla’s agenda. “I see that Kanan got you some new clothes,” she said. “That’s good. We don’t want to introduce you to the larger Rebellion leadership looking like an Imperial spy.”

“The larger leadership?” Kallus asked. Zeb had foolishly confided that they were taking a circuitous route to the Yavin moon over breakfast. “I thought it would be several days before we reached the new base, Captain Syndulla?” 

She turned and leveled him with her gaze. “If you’re really going to part of this crew, you’re going to have to drop the formalities,” she told him. “Just call me Hera.”

Part of this crew. Of the Ghost’s crew. He hadn’t honestly given any thought to where he’d go or what he’d do now that he had defected from the Empire, but the offer to stay on with these people—the very same people he formerly hunted with such abandon—was one too generous for him to refuse.

“I would very much like to become part of this crew,” he said, adding as an afterthought, “Hera.”

“Good,” she replied, and moved to a holoviewer. 

Kallus could feel Garazeb’s eyes on him, but it took a moment to be able to face him properly. When he did, the Lasat was grinning at him. 

“Welcome home,” he said in his gravelly voice. 

“It’s good to be…home,” Kallus replied, as Hera called them over to the holo.

Suddenly before him were faces he knew well from years of studying their movements. Mon Mothma. Bail Organa. There were others, too, whom he did not immediately recognize.

“I’d like to introduce you all to Kallus,” Hera said in a clear voice. “We’ll regroup together on Yavin 4.” She shot Kallus a glance that carried with it the assurance that she was trusting him with their lives and the threat he’d been expecting not to let them down. “But I want you to speak with him before we land so that you can meet the man who has helped us so much through his work as Fulcrum.”

Garazeb moved in more closely by his side and the others greeted him as well as Kallus. Introductions were made, thanks and a promise to provide any information in his power were exchanged.

Kallus was in awe.

Hera had orchestrated this entire pre-landing introduction to protect him. His changing into Rebellion clothing hadn’t been idly done. Her assurance that he’d been working for them would carry enormous weight. But the presence of Garazeb, the person most wronged by his past doings, by side his would carry still more. Hera Syndulla was a tactical genius. She’d have to be to have eluded the Empire for so long, of course. But now that this genius was focused on him, he was all the more struck by it.

During his many years with the Empire, the only non-humans he’d met were ones he was tasked with subduing. Or, much worse, with disposing of. That is, until Thrawn came into the picture. But Thrawn did nothing to dispel his belief that nonhumans were somehow lesser, despite his obvious intellectual superiority. Thrawn didn’t behave like a human being should. He was colder, more calculating. Nothing could touch him.

As Kallus looked from Hera to Garazeb, he knew with the upmost certainty how grossly wrong he’d been for so many years about other humanoids. Hera was clearly extraordinary on many levels. Captain of this ship, a superb pilot, and a brilliant tactician, with a Jedi, of all things, as her consort and second in command. 

Then there was Garazeb. Before Kallus knew the Lasat, he had assumed that the Rebels kept him around because of his dumb, brute strength. But Garazeb was so much more than that. Yes, he was powerfully strong. Kallus knew that from personal experience. But he had the best parts of a warrior’s heart as well: loyal, courageous, selfless. He inspired a level of love and allegiance in his crewmates that was unfathomable to Kallus. Garazeb humbled him in a way that no one had ever before, and he did so without even trying to. 

He watched Garazeb with eyes full of curiosity, not even attending the to the last of the holo conversation with the Rebel leaders.

Only when Hera loudly cleared her throat, did he look away.

“Yes?” he asked her.

She stared at him until he felt ready to squirm under her scrutiny. 

“I said that Ezra’s going to move into Kanan’s quarters so you can continue to bunk with Zeb,” she told him. “That is, if that’s all right with you and Zeb. I could always give you Kanan’s room instead if you need some space to yourself, Kallus.”

Kallus turned to Garazeb once more. He didn’t want to be alone in the Jedi’s room. He mostly just wanted to stay with Garazeb, if he was being completely honest with himself. But he had no idea what his friend was thinking. 

“’Course he bunks in my quarters,” Garazeb said. “Who needs privacy when they can have me?”

Kallus wouldn’t have put it quite that way, but he did agree wholeheartedly.

Hera was clearly waiting for Kallus to respond, so he stammered out a, “Yes, of course. I’d be honored to stay in Garazeb’s quarters.”

She nodded and turned to read a message that had just come in for her. “Good,” she said. “Because Kanan and Ezra have both already moved all of their things. We wouldn’t want to disrupt the whole ship for no reason.”

Unspoken, of course, was the fact that Kanan’s belongings had been moved to her own quarters. Kallus marveled at that as well. The Ghost’s captain, arguably one of the most powerful forces in the Rebellion, was openly fraternizing with a member of her crew. 

She’d have been court marshaled in the Empire. 

But the Rebellion clearly didn’t operate under the same rules. Hera casually dismissed them, and Kallus turned to Garazeb as they walked back to their now-shared quarters. “Thank you,” he said.

“For what?” Garazeb asked.

“For sharing your room with me,” Kallus said. “For everything, really.”

Garazeb shrugged off the thanks just as Ezra walked by, giving Kallus a heated glare.

“He hassling you?” Garazeb asked.

“He’s simply been threatening future bodily harm if I betray your trust,” Kallus told him. “He’s far from the only one of your friends to do so today.”

“Hmpf,” Garazeb grunted. “I’ll tell them to back off.”

“They’re just looking out for you,” Kallus told him. “And I really don’t mind. It’s good to see how highly valued you are by them. It’s…not like that in the Empire ranks.”

“Well, you’re here now,” his friend said. “And we look out for each other here.”

Garazeb swung one strong arm around Kallus’s shoulders, wrapping him in warmth. And if that arm and that warmth pulled at his stitches and made his bruises sting, Kallus thought the other sensations they caused within him more than attoned for it.

* * *

Anyone could see that Kallus was a mess by the end of the day. Too much work on too many things, all trying to prove himself to the crew of the Ghost. Nothing Zeb could say could get the guy to slow down, but finally Hera stepped in. 

“I think you’re done here,” she told him. 

“There are just a few more….” Kallus replied.

“Nope,” Hera said. “There’s nothing more for you to do today.”

She gave him her best, most stern stare. Zeb was glad to see that it worked. 

“Capt….I mean, Hera,” Kallus began. “All I want to do is….”

“Prove your loyalty to the crew, I know,” she interrupted. “There are better ways to accomplish that than by working yourself to death on your first day here, Kallus.”

Sabine, passing by the engine room, called out, “Just give him some pain meds. I promise you he’ll wax poetic about his loyatlies afterward.”

Zeb groaned uncomfortably, as Kallus’s head dropped backward in frustration.  
“This is not a suggestion,” Hera told Kallus. “It’s an order. You’re done for the day. Probably for the next couple of days.”

Then she turned to Zeb. “Make sure he eats something and then gets some rest,” she told him.

“I’m on it,” Zeb promised. 

Even though he’d been trying to get Kallus to rest all day, for some reason the man only listened when it was Hera barking orders at him. Some habits must die hard, Zeb figured. Like obeying authority. Though as he watched Kallus’s shoulders droop in the engine room, he began to wonder if he stopped because he was just too exhausted to go on or because he got an actual order to.

Zeb was tired, too, but not because he had broken ribs and showed signs of torture. Mostly he was tired from being teased and poked at all day. And over what? The fact that he’d bunked up with Kallus the night before? 

They were all off their nuts. Each and every one of his friends.

Except Kallus, of course. His newest friend was the only one who wasn’t bringing up the whole bunking thing left and right. 

In fact, he wasn’t mentioning it at all. Once Zeb thought of that, he couldn’t unthink it. Not while they walked to the common area of the ship. Not while they threw back some drinks and rations. Not even while they were walking together back to Zeb’s quarters.

“You’re very quiet,” Kallus told him.

“Yeah?” Zeb said. “I guess I got stuff on my mind.” That didn’t come out right at all. There were times that Zeb wished he had the same way with words that Hera or Kanan did. Or even Kallus, now that he’d been spending time with him again.

“Well, if you need to talk,” Kallus began. “Or, you know….”

But Zeb didn’t know. Not really. 

Kallus sighed so heavily that Zeb could feel it from where he walked by his side. 

“I’m not very good at this,” Kallus said. “I’m not used to having…friends. Real friends, anyway. But I’m just saying that I’m here for you. I mean, if you need me to be.”

Zeb put one hand gently on his friend’s shoulder. “Thanks, mate,” he said. 

They entered his quarters in silence, though. They changed out of their clothes and into night things in silence, too, their backs turned to each other.

It was weird doing the whole back turning thing. Zeb’d never once had to do that with Ezra in the room. It just never occurred to him. Or to Ezra for that matter. But somehow he felt he had to give Kallus some privacy.

Karabast, the whole situation was awkward.

And it only got more awkward from there. When they both turned around, Zeb blushed a deep purple right up to the tips of his ears when he found Kallus in just a pair of undershorts and a shirt. His friend turned kind of red, too.  
What was a Lasat supposed to do when things like this happened? There had to be a way to deal with, well, _this_.

“So, um,” Zeb said, but he didn’t get any further than that.

“I can take the top bunk if you….”

“No, no!” Zeb returned. “You’re hurt. You should sleep down below.”

He followed Kallus’s eyes as they looked upward at the top bunk. “How would you even fit up there?” he asked. “I’ll just climb up and….”

“I can fit just fine,” Zeb interrupted. “Just don’t want you making your injuries worse.”

They stood there and stared at each other for a few painful seconds.

“Or, I mean, we could….” Zeb wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence once he started it, though. They could what? How was he supposed to tell Kallus that they could share his bunk again? He couldn’t think of a single way to do that without making things even weirder than they already were.

“We could share,” Kallus said in a quiet voice. “We fit just fine last night, didn’t we?”

“We did,” Zeb agreed. He was so relieved that he hadn’t been the one to suggest it that he felt ready to burst out into an old Lasan drinking song.

“So then…?”

“Um, you first,” Zeb said.

Kallus climbed onto the bunk and then held the cover up to let Zeb in as well. 

And what was the big deal, really? All the fuss his friends made all day long about them sharing, and what of it? People shared bunks all the time. There was nothing to even discuss. Nosier than lothcats the lot of them were, making such a fuss over something that happened once. 

Just once!

But then here they were, squeezed into a tiny bunk together. 

Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for the amazing comments and kudos on this story. It started off completely as stress writing, and it's so nice that the stress paid off in some way. :)


	5. Like This

Kallus wondered if this was going to become a nightly ritual, or if he’d really begin sleeping in the top bunk once his ribs and shoulder and leg healed. It was virtually impossible to decide if he wanted to stay in Garazeb’s bunk permanently or couldn’t wait to move up to the other bunk.

There would be more room up there, certainly. Garazeb was not small and for that matter, neither was Kallus. There was just no space to move or breathe or do anything without touching each other.

Though, if Kallus was being completely honest with himself, he didn’t really mind the close quarters. He didn’t mind them at all.

Garazeb’s breath was warm on his neck as Kallus lay with his back to his friend. Now and then, his fur would brush up against the bare skin of Kallus’s lower arm. He had to fight not to respond in any way when it happened. Deep breaths. Kallus just needed to take deep breaths. Garazeb hit the light switch and the room fell into darkness. With more deep breathing exercises, Kallus slowly began to unfurl of his tension and even grow sleepy.

He eased backward, relaxing into the solid warmth of Garazeb’s chest. When his friend placed a hand on Kallus’s shoulder, he reached up and rested his own upon it on instinct. Through his exhaustion, the thought registered in Kallus’s mind that this was the way things were supposed to be.

He was just on the verge of sleep, in fact, when something grazed the back of his neck, just behind his right ear. His eyes shot open in the darkness. Had Garazeb just…? Could he have dreamt it? 

Because it felt very much as if Garazeb had just kissed him.

Kallus’s whole body tensed up.

Garazeb’s followed suit.

Then his friend pulled away and sat up in the bunk. “Look this isn’t going to work,” Garazeb said in the darkness.

“It’s not?” Kallus was genuinely confused, and even hurt. He turned over to face his friend, but couldn’t see more than the dimmest of outlines of Garazeb’s ears and face in the dark room. 

Why would Garazeb have kissed him if he didn’t think it was a good idea? Why even share a bunk if he didn’t want to?

“No, it’s not,” Garazeb asserted. “I can’t…this is….” His friend moved even further away. “Karabast, Kallus, it’s too hard to be that close to you, okay? And it’s not fair of me to….”

Kallus’s heart pounded in his chest. He honestly couldn’t tell what to think of that statement. Was Garazeb saying that it was difficult being to close because he didn’t want to be? Or because he very much wanted to be?

Because Kallus knew where he fell on that particular question.

“I…I didn’t mean to put you in an awkward situation,” Kallus said, not knowing what else to say. “I’ll just move to the top bunk so you can have some space.”

“No, that’s not what I meant!” Garazeb protested. “I just…being so close to you makes me want to get even closer, and it’s not fair to you. I’m going go see if Ezra will switch back to this room and you two can share instead.”

“You want me to share a bunk with Bridger?” Kallus had never been so confused in his entire life. Not even when he was first stranded with Garazeb on Bahryn and realized he was not the monster Kallus had always assumed him to be.

Garazeb growled in the darkness. “’Course I don’t want you share a bunk with Ezra!” he said. “But I put you in a bad position. I don’t want you to feel like you have to…” His voice trailed off, and suddenly Kallus got an inkling of what Garazeb was trying to say. “S’just that you keep talking about your debt to me, Kallus, and I can’t… _you_ can’t. This isn’t the way to repay it.”

Kallus sat up next to Garazeb. “I’m not trying to repay any debt to you this way,” he said in a quiet voice. “It never even occurred to me that being with you…if it was even possible to be…would be anything other than just being with you.”

His words hung in the air, and Kallus began to panic slightly that he hadn’t said enough, or had said it all the wrong way. He was tired. So very tired. He was still reeling from the ordeal of escaping from Thrawn and the Empire and his whole body still ached. He knew what he wanted, but the words were all coming out wrong.

Then he felt the soft touch of Garazeb’s fingers on his arm. “You’re breathing funny, Kal,” Garazeb said. “You should lie down and get some rest.”

Kallus leaned in to his friend’s hand. “Only if you do, too.”

He lifted the covers again and hoped that Garazeb would join him.

For once in his life, his hopes were realized. Garazeb lay back down on the bunk and reached around Kallus to pull him closer. They weren’t back to chest anymore, though, but facing each other. Garazeb’s rough voice broke the silence that had fallen.

“Kal?”

“Zeb?”

The diminutive name felt odd on his lips, but he liked it nonetheless.

“You sure you’re not doing this ‘cause you feel you have to?” his friend asked.

“I’m positive,” Kallus told him.

He pressed his forehead to Zeb’s.

“I’ve never felt…like this…about a human before,” Zeb said.

“I’ve never felt…like this…about anyone.”

Zeb cupped Kallus’s face in his hand.

Kallus reached his arm around the expanse of his friend’s torso and ran it down his back. Zeb’s shirt had pulled up slightly, so Kallus’s fingers met the soft, bare fur of his lower back.

A sudden memory flooded Kallus’s mind of when he was a young boy roaming the marketplace on Coruscant on his own. He’d discovered a vendor who sold fabrics and wanted to touch all of them. Some were rough, some were almost slippery in their smoothness. Then his fingertips had found a piece of velvet for the first time. He’d never known anything could be that soft. He’d rubbed both hands over it, wishing he could take it home with him and keep it close.

The vendor had shooed him away, yelling that little boys shouldn’t put their grubby hands on things they weren’t going to buy, but Kallus had never forgotten how that velvet felt between his fingers.

Touching Garazeb Orrelios was like touching velvet again.

Zeb’s fingers wound through Kallus’s loose, apparently less villainous hair. They moved even closer until they were breathing the same air, then they kissed. Very briefly, very gently. Zeb’s lips were like velvet, too.

“Um, that was….” Zeb said.

“Indeed,” Kallus replied.

They both laughed softly in the darkened bunk and then kissed again.

“Crew’s going to hassle the hell out of us about this,” Zeb said.

“I expect the death threats to double,” Kallus conceded.

“No way around that one, I guess.”

“Good thing you’re…” Kallus began, but his words got stuck in his throat as Zeb traced the curve of his jaw with one fingertip. “…You’re worth exciting a little murderous rage over.”

Zeb chuckled in the darkness and Kallus pulled him as close as he possibly could. He had, after all, been waiting for this since the moment they’d parted ways on the ice moon. And the wait was finally over.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this--and kudos and comments always appreciated! Love these characters so much.


End file.
